


dissolve

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson (Broadway Cast) Actor RPF
Genre: Bisexual Evan Hansen, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy Reconciliation, Dead Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), F/M, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Ghost Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), M/M, Mentioned Evan Hansen, Mentioned Zoe Murphy, POV Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Trans Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Young Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Zoe Murphy Tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Past memories flood into the front of his mind, cold eyes staring across the empty hallway. His gaze slowly met the white door, which had too many chips in the paint, hands just barely daring to open up the door. Dealing with things was never Connor's style; however, when he had recently passed away, he had no choice but to.





	dissolve

**Author's Note:**

> //trigger warning!! major references to suicide stuff (and gore/slurs kinda) please don't read if easily triggered!!

_if you're reading this i'm already dead and gone_

_don't look for me. don't try to find my body. <strike>i'm sorry.</strike>_

_it's not you, i swear. i <strike>like</strike> love you more than words can say and i don't want you to be hurt_

_i know it's going to be late when you're reading this. you always like coming over when heidi is asleep, for whatever reason._

_zoe is letting me borrow her car_

_funny how she didn't even remember what happened last time_

_lets just say this time it wont be an accident_

> _ **October 8th, 2015.**_

Blood was splattered across the windshield, the radio, which was playing a playlist of Evan's favorite songs, was surprisingly still going on in the background. Over the sirens and choked out sounds Connor gave. Over the sound of the wind howling and the dogs barking, over the sound of cars honking and distant crying. It felt like a scene straight from the movies. Red and blue lights going off, both in slow motion, and _god_, was everything so blurry. Connor was pretty sure that he would throw up what he downed if he kept his eyes open for more than two seconds.

Two bottles. Xanax, and Lexapro. One of his, one of Evan's. Connor knew Evan-- way too well-- he knew he wouldn't refuse to give him his medication, no matter the situation. Both bottles, empty, lay against the dashboard, smashed to a million pieces and more. He was sure there were plastic and glass bits digging deeper and deeper inside of his skin every time he twitched, or took a breath. There was burning in his throat- the cigarette he lit must've gotten wedged between the back of his throat and the roof of his mouth. He could taste the ash. 

Cynthia, accompanied by Larry, were both rushing to the side of his sisters car. Even through slitted eyes, he couldn't see Zoe. Sleeping, or did she hate him that much? What he couldn't make out, he made up. Cynthia sobbing (it was easy to figure that out, though; her sobs layered over the sirens, and Evan's playlist), Larry trying to keep her from seeing the mess that was Connor's corpse, and Zoe... Zoe, who was at home, probably talking to Alana. Maybe Evan. God. Did Evan even know? The thought made him sick.

Carelessly dragged out of the car. His arms were held tightly behind his back as he was yanked along to the ambulance, as if he weren't aware of what was going on. Gloved hands reached into his mouth and pulled out the half finished cigarette, the taste of latex and dentist flooding his mouth, along with ash and blood. What a wonderful mix.

> _ **October 22nd, 2015.** _

It was Cyntha's idea to have an open casket. Despite Zoe's and Larry's protests, she was set on letting the few people that came to the funeral watch his dead body. It was easy to say that Connor looked nothing like himself; a clean face, nails removed of any black polish, a neat black tuxedo, and a rose settled between his two hands, which were held over his heart. His lips were too pink. His face had way too much color. He looked more alive than he had ever been. Watching himself from a distance, he wanted to cry. This wasn't him. 

Relatives and family friends took their time with saying goodbye, despite the fact that all of them looked as if they had better places to be. Like going to his funeral was just another task on top of an already busy day. He didn't see Evan. He didn't see Miguel. Silently, he was hoping that they just weren't invited. That Cynthia didn't know anything about Evan- even though he had been over a million times- and she didn't invite him. 

He couldn't cry. He _couldn't._ No matter how hard he tried, or how many times he blinked, he found himself utterly unable to cry out. Was that a ghost thing? Was he even a ghost, or was he just an echo of a person he used to be?

Whatever it was, he loathed it. And he loathed staring himself down in the casket, hands curling over into angry fists. He swung back and knocked a vase down from the table next to him, the sound of mumbling and whispering filling the air. Cynthia scrambled to pick it up, trembling hands dabbing at the spilled water on the carpet. 

No one helped her. Maybe Cynthia would realize what it felt like to drown in a sea of swimming people. 

> ** _October 31st, 2015._ **

They were talking. Touching, even. Evan's hand teased the bottom of Zoe's dress, and he couldn't help but gawk at him. In shame, in sadness, and in heartbreak. Not even two weeks later, and he was moving on. He was pissed. Zoe was letting him slide his hand under her dress, and she wasn't even fighting against it. Even worse, they were on _his_ bed. His bed- which still had his note on it- the bed they both made out on several times. 

Evan's free hand was sliding under the pillow, a puzzled look coming across his face. Slowly, his hand was out from under the pillow. A crumpled note in his hand. Connor's note. Great. Evan was quick to pull his hand out from under Zoe's dress, leaning in closer to her so they could read the note together. A frustrated grin played at the corners of Connor's lips.

He turned away and left before he could get their reactions. He wasn't entirely sure he could stomach it- on his way out, he heard sobs. Only Evan's. He was too familiar with that sound, after all of those years of comforting him after the smallest things happened to him. Zoe, on the other hand, was completely silent. He wasn't surprised.

The hallway seemed to stretch on for miles. He stopped to stare into Zoe's bedroom for a few seconds before shaking his head and forcing himself out of the memories. He never banged on her door, screaming of how he'd kill her. He never stuck a knife through the wood and ruined the paint. He wasn't insane. He knew he wasn't. Even he wouldn't even go that far to hurt someone-- but now, he wished he did.

The distant sounds of footsteps slammed through the hall, making his head hurt more than it already did. Cynthia and Larry's door flew open, a worried-looking Evan rushing in and explaining something along the lines of a note being found under his pillow. Connor took hesitant steps toward the door frame, his head just barely poking in to watch the scene unfold. 

Cynthia was crying. Again. More than she was at the funeral, but not enough to choke on her tears. Cynthia always broke down, it seemed. Over missing lunches, forgotten backpacks, or her dead sons suicide note. She liked to blame it on allergies, most times. Connor knew that allergies weren't that strong, especially not in New York.

> _ **November 24th, 2015.** _

Slurs. Written- no- plastered against his locker. A desperate Evan trying to scrub it off, using spit, hand sanitizer, and tissues. Half of the school hated his guts, the other half scared. Terrified of who Connor Ian Murphy used to be. Of course, now that fear was gone. Erased, like it was never there. No more possible school shootings, no more yelling or shoving from bursts of rage-- peace. At least, that's what it felt like.

People were staring. More than Connor would've liked to admit. A small crowd had formed around Evan, a low murmur forming in the air. The tension was thick, tangible, almost. An empty milk carton met the back of Evan's head, more snickers and whispers forming along the crowd. Connor was sure that it was Jared's doing.

He could make out a few tears forming at the waterline of Evan's eyes, a weak laugh escaping him. How pathetic was he, trying his best not to break down in the middle of a crowd. A hand shoved through the thick sea of people, his smile almost instantly fading once he realized Zoe was to the rescue. She grabbed Evan's arm gently, murmured something into his ear, then walked off with him. 

Connor let his gaze trail back up to the writing on his locker, lip snarling at the smudged 'FAGGOT' and 'TRANNY' displayed across the pale blue locker for everyone to see. He found himself leaving the crowd as well, legs forcing himself to follow Zoe and Evan- wherever they went, he followed.

Soon enough, he found himself in the empty auditorium. Evan and Zoe were sitting next to one another, her hands twirling pieces of Evan's hair between her thin fingers. He nearly gagged at the sight, turning away, just so he could get up onto the stage. His fingers trailed across the props for that years musical, before finally settling on a vase. Thin, white, porcelain; much like the one at his funeral. He smashed it against the ground, broken pieces scattering across the stage, easily sliding onto the floor. Finally, he had caught their attention. 

A hesitant Evan got up from one of the chairs and moved over to the vase, using the side of his shoe to sweep the glass into a small pile. He didn't have anything to pick it up with- so he left it there. It's what Connor used to do when he was younger, and broke something on accident (or on purpose). He watched Evan return back to Zoe and take her hands, dread filling his stomach as he pecked her lips. Of course, they were a thing. An actual thing. Barely after a month after his funeral. Would Miguel leave him that easily, for someone else? Obviously, seeing that he hadn't even _gone_ to his funeral.

Connor's breathing hitched when Evan and him made eye contact, staring past his eyes and right into his brain. He tried to make out what he was thinking, one foot stepping in front of the other to get a better look at him. His brows met when he watched Evan move a step away from him, before moving to leave the auditorium, Zoe's hands still in his.

So, he watched Evan leave. Walking straight out of the main doors-- probably just so they could make out in peace. He wiped at his eyes stubbornly, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Evan could see him. 


End file.
